


Captivity

by Awilding



Series: Primal Instincts [2]
Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies), Alien Series
Genre: Confinement, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Hudson and Vasquez Live, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Medical Procedures, Not game over, Recovery, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awilding/pseuds/Awilding
Summary: After escaping LV-426, Hudson, Vasquez, Ripley, Hicks and Newt are held in quarantine as they recover from their mission. Stuck in close quarters, Hudson and Vasquez find comfort in one another as they each deal with their own damages and navigate the days that follow. As the crew moves closer to their date of release, a secret that Vasquez is keeping threatens to separate her from Hudson and the rest of the group.
Relationships: Dwayne Hicks/Ellen Ripley, William Hudson/Jenette Vazquez
Series: Primal Instincts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081802
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	1. Wake Up Call

As the cryopod slowly opened, Private Jenette Vasquez struggled to remember where she was. For a moment, all she could recall was the dream she had just woken from, the haunting image of Drake’s acid-seared face still lingering in her mind, as real as the day that it had happened. As the nightmarish events of her time on LV-426 started coming back to her, she closed her eyes and shivered.

Waking up from cryo felt like a cross between a fever and a bad hangover. Post-thaw, her head always ached and she felt weak and chilled. Exceeding those discomforts was a persistent and throbbing pain still emanating from both of her legs, which had received severe acid burns from the blood of a xenomorph. While it had happened almost three weeks ago now, her lowered metabolic state in cryosleep meant that her body had been slow to heal itself. 

In the two beds to her right were the only other remaining marines from their original team of twelve: Corporal Dwayne Hicks and Private William Hudson. All the others had perished, their bodies left behind on LV-426, only to be obliterated by the nuclear blast, their remains now mixed indiscriminately among colony debris and the alien filth that killed them.

Beside her, Private Hudson groaned as he opened his eyes. After barely surviving an alien attack, Hudson still looked like a mess. In nothing but his army boxer shorts, the squad leader and combat technician had bandages wrapped around his stomach, thigh and arm, his left hand bound in a makeshift splint. During one of their final battles with the aliens, he had been pulled down into the floor, presumed dead until he miraculously resurfaced with Ripley and Newt, just moments before their hectic departure. Vasquez had been surprised at just how grateful she felt when she discovered he was alive.

Hudson gazed over at her now and shook his head wearily, dark circles under his eyes. She wondered if she looked anywhere near as bad as he did.

“How you feelin’, Hudson?” she asked him.

“Never better,” he replied groggily, looking up at the ceiling. Then he turned to Hicks, who was making slow movements beside him. “That’s a good look for you, man,” he said to Hicks.

Corporal Hicks was heavily bandaged on his chest and face and had to turn his head all the way to the left to look at Hudson with his only good eye. He had been sedated for the entire duration of their departure and he now stared at Hudson, his mouth agape.

“Holy shit, you’re alive,” stated Hicks with an impressed smile, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bet that’s one hell of a story!” He reached out his fist, grinning despite the obvious discomfort of the movement, and Hudson gave him a fist bump with his good hand.

“Hell yeah,” Hudson replied. “And just wait ‘till you hear what Ripley did,” he added, nodding his head appreciatively in reference to Ripley’s kick-ass moment with the power loader. 

At the mention of Ripley, there was a noticeable change on Hicks’ face and he glanced over in her direction. Ripley, in her grey underwear and tank top, was now sitting up, her feet dangling off the side of the bed, looking over at Newt who was waking up in the cryopod between her and Hicks. 

Hearing her name, Ripley looked up. “Guess there’s a lot to catch up on,” she said with a pleasant smile and Hicks beamed at her. 

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Hicks admitted to her. “Both of you,” and gave a little wink to Newt with his one eye.

With that, Hudson turned to Vasquez with raised eyebrows and a smirk. “Hicks is going for it,” he mouthed to her silently and Vasquez chuckled. She had to admit, it was a relief to see that stupid smirk back on Hudson’s face. 

At that moment, two men entered the room, one wearing a military uniform and the other in a white lab coat. “Good morning everyone,” said the uniform. “It’s August 15, 2179, 0800 hours. The USS Sulaco has made safe dock here at Gateway Station. I trust you’re all doing well this morning.”

There was a brief silence before Hudson piped up. “That’s not even funny,” he said in annoyance, looking around at their dishevelled group. He turned back to Vasquez and mumbled in irritation, “Who’s the new guy?”

Vasquez felt her face mirror Hudson’s expression of annoyance, and she glared at the men in front of them. This was the part she had been dreading—how their debriefing of the events on LV-426 would go over with whatever stand-in superior they were handed. What she wouldn’t give to see Lieutenant Gorman, that asshole, standing in front of them now. Gorman who she had hated, Gorman who had saved her life.

The Lieutenant shot a cold look at Hudson, and then at her. “I’m Lieutenant Clarke, Senior Officer aboard Gateway Station,” the Lieutenant responded and then, motioning to his partner in the lab coat, “And this is Captain Bowens, Chief Physician and Head of Decontamination.” 

At the word ‘decontamination,’ Vasquez gave an audible groan, which was echoed by Hudson and even the generally well-mannered Hicks. They all knew the implications of the word. It meant quarantine; living in a sterile prison for an undisclosed amount of time.

“You’ve all been in contact with an unfamiliar species,” said the Lieutenant and he looked at his colleague, “We estimate a week of quarantine will be required before you, or any items aboard this ship, can be declared safe to leave.”

“Pardon me, Sir, but this is bullshit,” moaned Hudson. He was now sitting up and clutching his stomach.

“Shut your mouth, Private, or I’ll personally ensure that we double your time here,” the Lieutenant shot back, stepping towards Hudson with a pointed finger. “You’re all still Marines, and that’s the protocol. Now, I need you all to understand the situation at hand here,” he continued as he began pacing in front of them. “This mission has been deemed a catastrophic failure. An entire colony has been destroyed. Over a hundred civilians dead. And you three are all that’s left of Second Battalion Bravo Team.”

Vasquez snapped. “You think we don’t know that?!” She heard herself yelling back, fuming at the Lieutenant’s arrogance. She was standing up now, her injured legs burning underneath their bandages. In her mind she saw Drake’s dying face, pained and suffering.

Lieutenant Clarke seethed and began walking towards her. “You got a problem with authority, Private?!” he yelled at her. She stood her ground as the Lieutenant approached quickly, his face red with ferocity, when Hudson suddenly jumped up in front of her.

“Hey, back off, man!” Hudson said wildly, seemingly triggered by Lieutenant’s sudden aggression. Hudson appeared rattled, his eyes wide and threatened, his right hand in a fist that was poised to strike, his broken wrist in front of Vasquez to keep her back.

As the Lieutenant’s face contorted with anger, Hicks also jumped up and began trying to diffuse the situation. 

Vasquez was in a daze of fury, and for a split second she wondered whether this was real or whether there was any possibility that she was still asleep. She wanted to push Hudson out of the way and punch Clarke squarely between the eyes, but she resisted.

“Hey!” yelled Ripley loudly and Hudson and Hicks turned to her. “Hudson, sit down,” she said calmly, “I’d like to have a word with the Lieutenant.”

Looking stressed, Hudson stared at her, then the Lieutenant, then back at Vasquez.

Vasquez took him by the shoulders and led him backward until they were sitting side by side on the cryo bed, his bare back heaving as he breathed, his brows furrowed and his jaw set.

“Lieutenant Clarke, Captain Bowens,” Ripley addressed the men, her arms crossed over her chest. The Lieutenant’s face was still red with anger, but he looked back at Ripley and seemed receptive to what she was going to say, so she continued, “I’m sure that I don’t need to tell you that the nerves of this crew are shot. I’m not exaggerating when I say that we’ve all experienced our share of trauma on LV-426.”

As if on cue, Newt now jumped off her bed and ran up to Ripley and hugged her waist. Ripley picked up the girl and held her as she continued speaking, “This mission wasn’t a failure. We destroyed a hive of hundreds of hostile aliens. We returned with our lives, and a survivor of the civilian colony.” Ripley nodded at Newt, now in her arms. The girl’s face was buried in Ripley’s shoulder, only one of her eyes visible, staring at Clarke distrustfully. “What these marines need now is immediate medical attention, rest, and to be honorably discharged, not reprimanded.”

Hicks put a hand on Ripley’s shoulder in support and Hudson gave her a nod of appreciation. Vasquez couldn’t help but marvel at the way Ripley could take charge of a situation, keeping her cool and using her language to communicate exactly what needed to happen. While so unassuming when they first met, Ripley now somehow possessed all the components of a complete badass. Vasquez respected that and she knew the others did too.

At this point, Captain Bowens spoke for the first time, “Lieutenant, perhaps I should take it from here.” Bowens was taller than the Lieutenant, but seemed much more subdued, with a slightly anxious look about him. “I’ll provide an update when everyone has been processed.”

The Lieutenant appeared displeased but also increasingly disinterested, “Very well. But I want statements from all of them. Got that? Good luck with this outfit, Captain,” and he gave a final disapproving look at them before eventually exiting. 

“Well then,” Bowens said with a sigh and an artificial smile, “First things first. I want to get you folks to medical, you’re all looking a bit worse for wear.” He stood in front of them nervously, scanning the group, “Who was overseeing medical care while you were aboard the Sulaco?”

“Corporal Dietrich, Sir, our field medic,” Hicks responded solemnly, “But she fell in the line of duty.”

Vasquez felt a pang of sadness. Despite their differences over the years, Cynthia Dietrich had been a close friend. Hudson looked down at the floor at the mention of their fallen teammate. Vasquez had always suspected there was a history of some kind between Dietrich and Hudson. Maybe one day she would ask him about it.

“After that, it was our Android, Bishop,” Ripley stated. “And when he was damaged, I did my best.” Then eyeing up Hudson’s poorly splinted wrist, she added, “But I’m no doctor.”

“Where is the android now?” Bowens asked and Ripley led him to a cryopod that had been on the other side of her own. On the bed, Bishop’s figure was blurred by a semi-transparent bag in which he lay, decommissioned. Ripley carefully unzipped the bag and Bowens reacted with a surprised holler at the distressing state of the android. “Holy Crow!” he exclaimed.

Beside Vasquez, Hudson stifled a laugh at Bowens’ choice of profanity and Hicks turned to them in surprise. “What happened to Bishop?” he asked.

Vasquez made a twisting, then ripping motion with her hands, in reference to Bishop’s encounter with the alien.

“Oh shit,” Hicks replied looking unnerved and Vasquez nodded grimly. She had always considered Bishop a part of the team and she was hopeful that he could be revived.

“Well, we will do our best to get him, uh, re-established,” said Bowens. “In the meantime, why don’t you all follow me and we’ll head to the medical bay.”

The crew was slow moving as they followed Bowens, all of them sore and exhausted. Quarantine protocol dictated that they couldn’t take anything from the ship with them, so they remained barefoot and barely clothed.

Vasquez was having trouble walking. In addition to the intense pain she felt, her right leg seemed to give out whenever she put any weight on it. She suspected she had suffered some pretty extensive nerve damage and in the back of her mind, she knew that whatever medical examination was to follow, it might very well result in bad news about her future mobility and whether she would ever be able to serve in the Marine Corps again. 

Hudson was limping from a wound above his knee, but seeing Vasquez struggle, he went to her side and took her arm, pulling it over his shoulder to help her walk.

“Thanks, man,” she said somberly, looking up at him. He was almost a foot taller than her, so he had to hunch over slightly for her arm to reach around his neck. When he met her gaze, his expressive blue eyes seemed anxious, pain and stress apparent on his face, but then he flashed her one of his classic one-sided smiles and squeezed her hand that hung around his shoulder and they shuffled along, following the others.

. 

The Decontamination Unit was kept separate from the rest of the station and contained the medical labs, some administration offices and the quarantine holding facilities, or ‘living quarters’ as Bowens referred to them.

Outside of the medical bay, they stopped in a corridor that had chairs lined up against one of the walls. Before being invited to sit, Hudson led Vasquez towards the closest chair and helped her into it.

She had been pretending not to notice how chivalrous Hudson was being towards her. In part, because she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. It was clear that Hudson was trying to look out for her, but she wasn’t certain whether she liked receiving that kind of attention from him, or whether it just made her feel weak.

Vasquez rubbed her legs tenderly around the bandages, feeling Hudson’s eyes on her. She ignored him.

Bowens paced around the corridor, “So, if you folks want to wait here for a moment, we’ll just get organized. It shouldn’t take too long. Ah, Doctor Roberts, hi there.”

A doctor with shoulder-length blonde hair had entered and smiled broadly at Bowens, “This must be her then,” Doctor Roberts said sweetly and crouched down in front of Newt, who had just sat down in one of the chairs.

Vasquez watched as instantly Ripley stiffened. Alert and vigilant, Ripley turned to the doctor, “This is Rebecca Jorden, but she goes by Newt,” she said simply, a frown on her face.

“Don’t worry,” said Doctor Roberts pleasantly, “I’m going to take good care of you, Rebecca.”

A sudden tension filled the room as they each perceived an imminent threat. Hicks who had briefly sat down now stood up slowly and moved next to Ripley. Vasquez exchanged a wary look with Hudson.

“I’ll take her now,” said Roberts innocuously. “For tests and to get her statement.”

Ripley almost laughed. “Oh no. She stays with me,” she said adamantly.

Roberts seemed confused and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, this ward isn’t set up for children, I’ll be taking her to pediatrics.”

Newt was now hiding behind Ripley. “Ripley, no!” she protested.

“Then Ripley can go with her there,” Hicks said.

Ripley nodded fiercely. “She’s not going anywhere alone with you people.” 

“We’ll be needing her to make a statement on her own,” Bowens said matter-of-factly, and Hicks stepped towards him threateningly.

At that moment, Roberts reached her hand out to Newt to try to take her by the arm, but Vasquez had hopped up and grabbed Roberts’ arm instead, stopping her in her tracks. Hudson was next to her in an instant.

“You lay a hand on that kid, and you’ll be fucking sorry,” he said to Roberts menacingly.

Roberts looked startled, yanking her arm away from Vasquez. She gave a bewildered laugh glancing around at the four of them in front of her, all fiercely protective of Newt and willing to fight anyone to keep her in Ripley’s care. 

Bowens was looking baffled. “Well, I guess we can make some special accommodations in this case. I’m so sorry Doctor Roberts,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Whatever happened to these folks on LV-426 has clearly done a number on them.”


	2. Hitting a Nerve

Hudson’s time in the medical bay felt like a strange and painful blur.

In a room away from the others, doctors stabbed him with needles, took his blood and temperature and blood pressure, shined light into his eyes and down his throat. They pumped liquid into his veins and scanned for abnormalities in his insides using devices he had never seen before. Doctors stripped off his bandages and grilled him about his injuries, prodding at his cracked ribs and broken wrist, ruthlessly sterilizing cuts on his stomach and thigh and eyebrow before sealing everything back up with sutures and gauze.

The experience made him feel agitated and exposed, like he was a test subject being experimented on. At times, his heart rate would spike, and he would have to close his eyes and breathe slowly in order to calm down.

Even more distressing was when a sudden touch or movement would trigger a vivid memory. When the doctor had grabbed his leg to examine the cut on his thigh, Hudson was suddenly transported back to the tightly confined space, being dragged to his death by the xenomorph. He wrenched himself free from the doctor’s grasp, shaking and swearing until he could be coaxed into taking a sedative. 

It was true what Ripley said, his nerves were shot. He knew he was messed up.

But by far, the worst part of the experience was the debriding of the acid burn on his arm. He had been prepped with a local anesthetic, but he could still feel the searing, heart-jolting nerve pain as two doctors worked to remove the dead tissue from the wound in order to prep it for skin regeneration.

The process took hours and he wasn’t sure if it was on purpose, but it was also during this time that they chose to send in an officer to take down his verbal statement. As doctors peeled back layers of dead skin and muscle from his upper arm, he did his best to recall and communicate the details of their mission, gritting his teeth and sweating profusely.

He knew Hicks and Vasquez would be having this done to them now too, and he thought of Vasquez and the burns on her legs. As much as he was hurting, he knew that what she would have to go through would be a lot worse. It was hard for him to even think about.

Hudson knew that he had feelings for Vasquez, he just wasn’t sure exactly when or how they had come about. Part of him suspected they had been there for this entire mission, maybe even earlier, but it was aboard the Sulaco, after narrowly escaping, that the feelings really began to feel impossible to ignore. Vasquez had been there when he woke up, recovering on a bed beside him. She had been uncharacteristically kind to him and he could tell that she was relieved that he was alive.

But being happy about someone _not dying_ was hardly the same as reciprocating feelings, and he knew that he couldn’t expect anything more than that from her.

While it was possible that no-strings-attached sex with Vasquez wasn’t entirely out of the question, more than anything, he just liked being around her and having her as a friend. He didn’t want to fuck that up. He would just need to keep quiet until he could get his head straight and stop thinking about her in that way.

When the doctors finally discharged him from their care, Hudson felt drained and unsteady as he headed towards the living quarters where they would be staying until the station authorities decided they no longer posed a threat to the rest of the population. 

In a daze, he limped down the long corridor, trying not to put too much weight on his freshly sutured thigh. When he heard movement behind him, he hoped it was Vasquez, but turned to see Hicks instead.

Looking at Hicks, Hudson could tell that he had an equally bad experience in the medical bay. Hicks looked like he had just aged ten years. Along with his chest, his left eye was freshly bandaged and what was visible of his face looked sickly and tired.

“Man, you look like shit,” Hudson stated good-humouredly, clapping him on the back. 

Hicks laughed. “Me? You’re a disaster,” he shot back, taking stock of all that was wrong with Hudson. “Nice cast though.”

Hudson raised the plaster cast they had formed over his left wrist. “Wanna sign it?” he joked.

“No, but maybe Vasquez will.” Hicks replied quickly with a smirk. 

Hudson gave a laugh but felt his face grow a bit hot, “What the fuck you talkin’ about, _Corporal_?”

“You know,” responded Hicks, “Jumping in front of her to protect her from Clarke, rushing to her side to help her down the hall…”

“What, I’m a nice guy.”

“Okay,” said Hicks, unconvinced.

“You’re high, man,” Hudson scoffed as they reached the living quarters. But as they opened the door, Vasquez was right there, moving in front of them on a set of crutches.

Like them, she was still in her underwear, but she held some articles of clothing against one of her crutches. She too looked worn out. Exhaustion was visible on her face and her golden skin looked much paler than usual. When she saw them enter, her deep brown eyes looked Hudson over.

Caught off guard, Hudson suddenly felt his words catch in his throat, and he was relieved when Hicks spoke first.

“What’s the story, Vasquez?”

“The place isn’t too bad,” she said of their new, hopefully very temporary accommodations. “There’s absolutely nothing to do here and we’re going to be bored as fuck, but at least they brought us some clothes and things,” and she looked over a stack of folded garments and what appeared to be toiletries on the main table. “The rooms down that hall are still free,” she said, nodding down one of the two hallways that branched off the common area.

“Cool,” Hudson managed, but his voice sounded strangled. “Yep.”

Vasquez stared at him, his odd mannerisms apparently not going unnoticed. Then she continued down the opposite hall and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Hicks shook his head at Hudson and grinned. “You poor sucker.”

. 

For the next several hours, everyone pretty much kept to themselves. The first thing Hudson did when he got to his room was shower. His last shower had been on the Sulaco before cryo, 18 days earlier. He remembered how the comfort of the hot water had been a shock to his tormented system, how the shower floor ran dark as dirt and blood rinsed off of his skin and out of his hair.

Now, as the warm water washed over his aching body, he imagined that it was washing away the stress and anxiety pent up inside him. He reminded himself that he was one of the lucky ones. He had survived.

When he had dried off, exhaustion hit him so hard that he couldn’t even finish dressing himself. He collapsed on the bed in just a pair of boxers, falling asleep instantly.

. 

A distorted and shiny black mass appeared before him, screeching and barring its teeth as it grabbed a hold of his leg and forcefully dragged him through confined spaces that grew ever darker and narrower.

Hudson awoke with a hard jolt, the suddenness of his movement sending a shockwave of pain through his tensed muscles. He groaned and held his stomach where his broken ribs were. He breathed hard and adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream, sending tremors through his body.

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing slowly, trying to calm himself.

The sound of voices could be heard coming from the common room. It was a nice sound, the hum of the other members of his crew casually conversing, the occasional laugh peppering the conversation. 

The clock on the wall of his room, one of the only decorative elements of the sterile, highly practical environment, read 18:25. He had slept for a good few hours.

He was hungry now, ravenous, having not eaten for the entire day—but of course it had actually been more like two and a half weeks since his last meal before cryosleep.

Even more than food, it was human interaction that he craved now; the need to be among friends, away from just himself and his thoughts.

Hudson splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth, then quickly dressed in his Weyland-Yutani Corp issued white t-shirt and grey sweatpants before heading towards the sound of the others—all that now remained of his crew. 


	3. Drug of Choice

Vasquez abandoned one of her crutches against the counter. Her legs hurt either way, but at least this meant that she could carry her tray of food in one hand.

“You want a hand with that, Vaz?” Ripley asked, sipping a warm tea at the table. Ripley, Hicks and Newt had already finished eating.

“Nah, thanks Ripley, I got it,” Vasquez replied graciously, taking a seat next to Hicks. At the start of their mission, she never would have expected that she and Ripley would end up being friends. Yet, here they were. 

Hours earlier when she got to her room, Vasquez had rested for a while, trying to sleep off some of her pain and the residual unpleasant feelings from her experience in the medical bay. While she was feeling slightly better now, she was still sore and exceptionally hungry.

Hudson hadn’t resurfaced since arriving from the medical bay. When he had first walked in, he looked like he was ailing badly, thoroughly bandaged up, looking and sounding worn out. She wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to just sleep through the night instead of getting up for dinner. For his sake, she kind of hoped that he could, as it might do him some good.

“Don’t forget this,” Hicks said to her. “They dropped them off about an hour ago.” He handed her a clear bottle with some pills in it. A small attached printout had her name on it and a list of what had been prescribed to her.

“Thanks,” said Vasquez hesitantly, and she looked down the table and noticed that everyone had a bottle in front of them. The contents of hers consisted of several vitamin supplements and a couple different kinds of painkillers, two of which she popped right away, not caring if it made her look soft.

“They give you any good news about your eye?” Vasquez asked Hicks, approaching the question as delicately as she could manage.

Hicks exchanged a look with Ripley across the table and Vasquez already knew the answer.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t look good,” he answered. When a silence passed, he added, “That was a bad joke. But yeah, it will be an eyepatch for me,” and Ripley put her hand on his.

“Sorry to hear that,  _ hermano _ ,” Vasquez replied sincerely.

“Ah, I knew it when it happened,” said Hicks. “I suppose I’m just lucky to be here right now.”

“We all are,” said Ripley.

“How’s the food in this place?” came Hudson’s voice from across the room. Vasquez looked up as the comtech ambled towards them.

She presumed he had gotten a few hours’ rest because he was looking more like himself. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw how he chose to wear his Weyland-Yutani attire, with the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up and the waistband of his sweatpants so low that the top of his boxers showed. He looked good.

“I got to try sweet potatoes, Hudson!” Newt called to him happily.

“You did?!” Hudson said, matching Newt’s excitement. “Hey, that sounds pretty good, Scout. Wanna show me where I can get some of those?” Newt jumped up and began showing Hudson what foods he should put on his plate.

Ripley shook her head, bemused. “She loves Hudson,” she said, watching Newt in amazement.

“Well, he is basically just a tall kid,” said Vasquez and Ripley and Hicks laughed.

Hudson came over to the table with a glass of water in his hand and his food tray balanced on his cast. He sat across from Vasquez and his blue eyes greeted her. “Evening, Vaz,” he said and he began to devour his food.

“This is yours,” Hicks said, handing Hudson his allocation of prescription medications, a large bottle nearly filled to the brim with different coloured pills. “Looks like someone hit the jackpot.” 

Hudson accepted it, looking confused. “The fuck?”

Quizzically, he looked at the printout and read the long list of described medications. “Was everyone prescribed antipsychotics?” He asked with a tone of incredulity. Ripley and Hicks looked at him and chuckled and Vasquez marvelled at Hudson’s innocence.

“Just you,  _ estúpido _ ,” Vasquez answered. “Can you blame them?”

“What did you get?” Hudson asked her.

Vasquez showed him her bottle with the vitamins and a dozen white pills and he looked at it with his brows furrowed. Then he dumped his bottle out on his tray.

“Here, help me find the good ones,” he said and Vasquez leaned in, helping him sort through the pills until he was left seemingly satisfied with a small pile that matched her own.

Beside them, Ripley and Hicks had begun a quiet conversation between themselves. Hudson shifted in his seat, his demeanor changing slightly.

Whenever Hudson was anxious, a little indent would appear just above his left eyebrow. She had always thought it was kind of endearing and probably something he didn’t even know about himself.

The eyebrow dimple was visible now when he looked up at her. “How did everything go today?” he asked and Vasquez knew he was asking about her experience in the medical bay.

“It was fucking Grade-A torture,” she replied honestly, but then gave a little laugh at the end to soften the confession.

She could barely even stand the thought of it now. She clenched her jaw, thinking back to the surgeons extracting layers of tissue from her legs. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how she had gotten through it.

“Fuck,” Hudson said gravely. He was watching her now with such sincerity that it made her uneasy. “Are you gonna be alright?” he asked. “What did they say?”

For a moment, Vasquez considered telling him the truth, but when she imagined him responding with sympathy and pitying looks, she decided against it. “They said I’ll be fine,” She told him with a shrug. “Be walking again in no time.”

Hudson’s face brightened considerably and he flashed her a genuine smile, the space between his front teeth visible, the worried eyebrow now gone. “Hey, that’s good news!” He said, hitting her on the arm affectionately.

Vasquez couldn’t help but smile back.

. 

After the dishes were cleared, the five of them stayed at the table and continued talking for several hours. For Vasquez, it felt nice to just be there with everyone as they decompressed, even laughing a bit as they talked about lighter subjects in between mentions of their recent mission and how they were each coping.

The group seemed to mesh well and she felt that they all genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. Even Hudson, who had annoyed the shit out of everyone during their mission, was well-liked amongst the group, now that he was less of a stress-case and slowly reverting back to his usual self.

When Newt fell asleep at the table and Ripley got up to take her to bed, Hicks, Hudson and Vasquez stayed and talked for a while, speaking fondly of their former team and missions.

In telling any story, it seemed impossible not to speak about the ones they had lost, those who had been so integral to their lives. So many of them, now gone.

Vasquez missed each of them, but most of all, she missed Drake. They had shared such a comradery over the years. He had been her closest friend, although they slept together often. She had known that he had been in love with her, but she had never fully been able to return his feelings. Now the guilt of that gnawed at her.

That, and the guilt she felt for his death.

After a while, when Hicks got up to leave, it was just her and Hudson left at the table. When Hicks was out of earshot, they joked about how he was likely headed to Ripley’s room, but soon they were left alone together in silence.

It was somewhat rare for her and Hudson to spend time alone together outside of a mission—aside from the occasional drinking session. One time, a little over a year ago, they had met up in Houston for dinner and drinks and the night ended with them drunkenly getting a bit too close. Then, after their escape from LV-426, they shared an unexpected heart-to-heart in the medical wing of the Sulaco. She had been surprised at how comforting it felt to lie together on the gurney, but then they had also both been high on painkillers. 

Now, Hudson sat slouched in his chair across from her, his arms on the table, looking at her in the silence. It seemed he was waiting for her to speak, almost as if he knew she had something she wanted to say. With no one there now but the two of them, she decided to go out on a limb and take him up on an offer he had made to her.

“You probably don’t remember this,” she began hesitantly, “but the other night on the Sulaco, you said that if I ever needed to talk about anything…” she felt her face growing warm with embarrassment. She hated the way her words sounded; how bad she was at talking about anything personal.

Hudson straightened up in his chair. “I remember,” he said. “You had just shot me full of morphine, but yeah, I meant it.”

Vasquez gave a little laugh, feeling her embarrassment diminish a bit. She felt like it might actually be okay to be vulnerable in this moment with him.

“Yeah. Well, I’ve been having these dreams… these  _ memories _ about Drake,” she admitted, looking down at the table. “You know, seeing his face all messed up and…” she breathed.

Vasquez had barely even thought this to herself and now she was admitting it to Hudson. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, but she could see in her peripheral vision that he was barely even moving, just silently waiting for what she was going to say next.

“And I know”—the words caught in her throat but she pushed forward—“I know that I was the one who did that to him.”

“Vaz,” Hudson said. He got up from his chair and moved to the other side of the table so he could sit next to her.

“Really, it was me that killed him,” she went on, “it was my fault because I shot that thing right next to him.” She felt her voice break, an unrelenting pressure in her chest. It was at times like this that she wished she could cry, to have some sort of pressure release for the pain that was pent up inside of her.

“Vaz, look at me,” Hudson said and she suddenly realized that he was holding her hand in his. “It wasn’t your fault. You were trying to help. And you did your best, okay? That thing would have dragged him away otherwise. You were trying to protect him.”

She shook her head in dismay, but she listened to his words and she did find comfort in them. When she finally found the courage to look up at him, he was staring back at her intently and he squeezed her hand.

In his eyes, she could see the affection that he had for her. 

Without knowing why, she leaned in and kissed him.

It was just a small kiss, her lips gently meeting his, soft and warm. It lasted only a few seconds, but it felt nice. When she pulled away, she was surprised to feel that part of the pressure in her chest had dissipated. Endorphins triggered, she felt more relaxed and a bit light-headed.

Hudson exhaled, caught off guard. Looking into her eyes, and then at her lips, he moved towards her and kissed her again, this time more deeply.

Vasquez didn’t fight it, she kissed him back with intensity. He leaned in, trying to decrease the space between them, his arms around her back, pulling her in closer. Her hands were on his face now guiding the kiss, drawing him in deeper, his short facial hair rough against her palms.

The contact between them still hindered by their separate chairs, Hudson slid his hands under her and swiftly lifted her into his lap so that she now straddled him.

The simple act of being able to press her body so fully against his felt so refreshingly intimate that she pulled away from their kiss and just let her head loll on to his shoulder contentedly, her arms wrapped around his back and her eyes closed, savoring the feeling of closeness.

“Fuck, this feels good,” Hudson breathed. He held her to him tightly, his lips brushing softly against her neck and she knew exactly what he was feeling. It was the surprisingly mind-altering sensation of genuine human connection. It was the steady release of blissful chemicals to the brain, a much-needed reprieve after so much pain and trauma.

She ran her hands through his hair. His body so close to hers, she could feel his heart beating fast. Suddenly, she wanted more. A shiver of excitement shot through her body. She pulled back a bit so she could look at him with lustful eyes. “Take me to bed?” she asked.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Hell yeah.” 


	4. Racing Hearts

Hudson couldn’t quite believe that this was happening.

In the short distance to her room, he and Vasquez could barely pry themselves away from one another. He carried her down the hall, her legs around his waist, their mouths interlocked, her hands all over his back.

His head was buzzing, and it felt like he was either drunk or drugged. He could barely feel the pain of his injuries, there was only the feeling of Vasquez’s sexy mouth on his lips, her chest heaving against his, her hot ass in his hands.

Halfway down the hall, she bucked her hips and pressed herself against him and he thought he might have to stop, drop and have sex with her right there. But they made it to her room, and he set her down on the bed softly and shut the door.

She was beautiful, he had always thought so. He liked to tease her about her strength, but it was also one of the things he liked most about her. Her striking dark eyes drew him forward, and he moved towards her, entranced in her spell. He climbed on top of her slowly, taking her in, admiring her perfect figure, her soft, short hair and velvet skin. He kissed her neck and decided that he wanted to savor every moment of this.

He was dying to strip her clothes off, to see her naked body and feel that first thrust inside of her. But he was also afraid to do anything that might hurt her or their friendship. He wanted her to be the one to make the first move.

So, when she pulled at his waistband and said, “Take these off,” he didn’t hesitate at her directive, and the pants were in a heap on the floor in seconds.

Taking off his shirt with equal gusto, Hudson completely forgot about his broken ribs and was suddenly stopped dead, his shirt halfway over his head when he made a wrong movement and the pain nearly doubled him over. He groaned, stuck inside his t-shirt.

“Shit,” said Vasquez, but he could hear her stifling a laugh. “Oh god. Here, hold still.” She carefully peeled the shirt up over his head and arm and then guided his cast through the other armhole. 

“You okay?” Vasquez asked, touching his bandaged stomach. He nodded, but he silently worried that he had ruined the sexually charged moment. “Okay then,” she said with a devious smile, “Now do mine,” indicating that he should pull her shirt off too.

Hudson’s pace quickened and he grinned cheekily. “You want it all the way off, or just halfway?” he joked.

She laid down again on the bed, her arms up over her head this time, showing him that he had free reign over her. As she did this, her shirt came up a bit to reveal the golden skin of her toned stomach, a light scar on the left side, below her ribcage. He traced the soft skin on her waist, pausing momentarily to kiss below her navel. She exhaled happily, her beautifully muscular stomach contracting at the act.

Hudson slid his hand under her shirt, upward until his hand found the underside of one of her breasts. His hand lingered there, feeling its tantalizing heaviness, then he began removing her shirt completely, slowly revealing the vision of her perfection. Like a fucking Latina Aphrodite. 

He bit his bottom lip. She looked incredible with her shirt off, just as he knew she would. Her chains and dog tags fell in between breasts so amazing and full, they rivalled that of any pinup girl he had seen.

“You’re so goddamn hot,” he breathed, so turned on now that he thought he might pass out.

“So fuck me already,” said Vasquez with a hint of impatience as she began taking off her pants, roughly pulling them over her bandaged legs, wincing as she did.

“Hey, hey,” said Hudson quickly, stopping her. “Careful. We got time, let’s do this right.” He said and gingerly began sliding off each pant leg, being cautious not to hurt her.

Both of her legs were bandaged from knee to ankle, and he noticed that even with the bandages, the calf of her right leg seemed to be thinner than that of the left.

When he looked up at her, he realized that something had changed, she was frowning now, and her face looked anxious. He was about to ask her if something was wrong when she pulled him towards her and kissed him roughly, and said, “Come on,” taking off her underwear. 

Hudson pulled down his boxers and moved towards her quickly, aroused and hard, the anticipation of her driving him crazy.

He was getting into position on top of her when she suddenly turned around so that her back was to him. Still, she reached behind and guided him towards her.

While a bit surprised at her last-minute choice of position, Hudson didn’t question it too much, suspecting it was her way of trying to limit some of the intimacy between them. He was more than happy to have her in the driver’s seat calling the shots, he was just happy to be along for the ride.

­He pushed himself forward and that first feeling of entering her was better than he could have imagined. He breathed in contentment, feeling the perfect combination of wetness and tightness around him.

Vasquez drew a sharp breath and he felt suddenly worried. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just shut up and fuck me,” she said brashly.

He did as he was told, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed at the sudden change in mood.

Nevertheless, he was determined to show her a good time, so he reached around her and moved his hand between her legs, beginning to rub her slowly as he continued to thrust in and out. She gave a moan of approval and he felt pleased with himself, and even more so when her sounds of enjoyment continued. 

They quickly developed a good rhythm and he kept to it, relishing the amazing feeling of heat and pleasure and endorphins swirling around his body. His chest was pressed up against her back and he could feel her body heat, her steady breathing, her heartbeat. Sweat began to form between them and his skin slid against hers.

He had never hated his cast more than at that very moment. With his right hand occupied, he wished he could have the other one free to properly run over her body. His restricted hand longed to spread its fingers wide and massage her breasts, cup her perfect ass. Instead, it was imprisoned in a hard and scratchy plaster casing, his fingers and his thumb exposed, yet limited in their movement. While he did with them what he could, he knew it wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world, and at one point, he quite seriously considered just ripping the cast off and dealing with the consequences later.

Vasquez was breathing harder now, each breath punctuated with a moan, her voice low and sexy. The sound of it wound him up with excitement, his pace quickening, his blood flowing hotter and faster through his veins. He exhaled deeply, concentrating on keeping himself in check.

Suddenly, she threw her head back, her eyes shut tightly and her mouth open, but silent. After a moment, a sound of satisfaction reverberated through her and he felt her tighten, constricting around him.

He sighed blissfully as the feeling just about brought him over the edge. That was his cue. He was close now and it wouldn’t take much more than a single look from her to finish him off.

As a basic courtesy, he said, “Vaz, I’m gonna…”

“Uh-huh,” she said breathlessly.

With a few more thrusts, he surpassed the invisible threshold, all the built-up pressure in his body releasing. He shuddered as pleasure rippled through his body and flooded his brain. He exhaled, letting out a low groan in response to the feeling.

His body felt out of his control now, his mind blank and his muscles weak and tingling. He lay on top of Vasquez, his arms wrapped around her, breathing hard.

For a moment, they laid still together, heart rates decelerating, allowing the residual feelings of pleasure to soak in and resonate. He was drugged again on the natural high he got from her.

Hudson felt tired now. He repositioned himself beside her, their bodies still close, his arm still draped over her. But then she swiftly sat up and began finding her clothes.

She dressed in her underwear and shirt and then leaned over the bed to gather his clothes and he knew that their time together had come to an end.

She tossed his clothes on his chest, “Alright then,  _ vete _ .”

“Vasquez,” he attempted drowsily.

“What, did you expect us to cuddle? Come on, get going, I’m tired.”

Hudson looked up at her, but she avoided his eyes. He felt confused, unsure what had happened to turn everything on a dime like that. He put on his boxers and made his way to the door.

Once outside, he turned, hoping to continue their conversation, but she had already shut the door. He stood there perplexed for a moment.

“Seriously, Vaz? Can we just talk for a minute?” he said through the door. When there was no answer he added, “I can run a bypass on your door, don’t think I won’t!”

He shook his head, replaying the events of the night in his mind. So much for his plan of maintaining the status quo between them. But he never had been very good at hiding his emotions.

Hudson walked down the hall in his underwear, feeling defeated. When he stepped into the common room, he noticed that both of Vasquez’s crutches were still there, one against the counter, the other on the floor by the table, evidently knocked over during their earlier frenzy.

He picked them up and brought them back, leaving them outside her door where she would find them.

Then he trekked back through the common area, towards his room down the opposite hall, grabbing a handful of painkillers on his way.


	5. Bad Blood

The breakfasts in this place were pitiful. At least on the Sulaco, he could get some eggs or bacon.

Hudson sat at the table languidly, looking at his bowl of homogenous porridge, wondering if they had actually pureed the oats to get them to that consistency.

“What’s up with you?” asked Hicks.

“Nothin’. I just fucking hate it here.” Hudson sulked. 

“Did you get the notification this morning?” Hicks asked him. “Bowens is going to be coming down shortly to give us an update.”

Hudson just nodded, the information of little importance to him.

“I wonder if I should knock on Vasquez’s door?” mused Ripley, drying Newt’s hair with a towel. “He’s probably going to be here soon.”

Hudson scoffed. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he said miserably, thinking back to Vasquez’s disposition last night. It was already late into the morning and she hadn’t yet come out of her room, her crutches still leaning outside her door. Hudson assumed she was avoiding him, and he felt a bit nervous about seeing her when she finally did come out.

Hicks’ one visible eyebrow was raised, and he looked at Hudson with curiosity.

“We did it last night and now she hates me for some reason.” Hudson blurted out, unabashedly.

Hicks started laughing. Ripley shook her head and jokingly demonstrated covering Newt’s ears with the towel. Newt looked at Hudson with interest, but he knew she was too young to understand what he was talking about.

“You were that bad, huh?” joked Hicks. Hudson responded to him with sarcastic laughter.

There was a noise of a door opening and then the sound of crutches and Vasquez appeared in the room, oblivious to the conversation she had just walked into. However, when everyone looked a bit awkward and avoided eye contact with her, she went over to Hudson and punched him hard in the shoulder.

“You asshole!” she said in disbelief. “You told them, didn’t you?”

“Ow!” he moaned. “They asked!” he said in defense.

“We really didn’t,” said Hicks dryly.

“You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?” Vasquez grumbled, turning away from him and moving towards the kitchen.

“Aw, thanks babe, I knew you thought so,” Hudson called after her, faking a sweet tone. 

Vasquez fumed.

At that moment, Bowens entered, looking as nervous and downtrodden as ever. “Hi everyone. How are we all doing this morning?” he asked with his usual derivative politeness.

“ _ We  _ are going stir crazy,” Hudson replied, borrowing Bowen’s intonation. “When are we gettin’ outta here, Sir?”

“Well, I’ve got some good news in that regard,” said Bowens, looking down at an electronic tablet. “Your lab workups are looking good so far, no signs of transmittable contagions. We still need a couple more days to be sure, but it seems we may be ahead of schedule. Also, the decontamination of the Sulaco is still underway as our specialists continue to sort through your… belongings.”

Hudson laughed at that and Hicks turned to him, reading his mind. “Someone is in for a shock when they open up your locker, bud,” he said.

“Moving on,” said Bowens dourly, “Legal matters. Your verbal statements have all been found to corroborate one another, including that of the android, Bishop, who is still being reconfigured. As a result, Weyland-Yutani has opted to absolve you of negligence and not find you at fault for the catastrophic damages on LV-426.”

Ripley scoffed and shook her head, “Gee, thanks for that.”

Bowens kept his eyes on Ripley. “And regarding the matter of custody for Rebecca Jorden, a hearing has been scheduled for tomorrow at 1100 hours to finalize the matter. If you would like to make a case for guardianship, please begin preparing your statement. You will be provided with legal representation. They can answer any questions you may have prior to the hearing.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” said Ripley, her tone a bit more sombre as she held Newt close and exchanged a meaningful look with Hicks.

“Finally, the US Colonial Marine Corps would like to ensure your medical needs are taken care of before you depart Gateway Station. I believe a few of you have some skin regeneration therapy to complete so you can head back to the labs as soon as we’re done here,” Bowens looked up from his tablet at the crew. “Any questions?”

Vasquez raised her hand. “Request to be transferred to a different quarantine unit, Sir,” she said, shooting a frosty look over at Hudson.

“Denied,” said Bowens pragmatically.

They thanked Bowens for the update and he exited. Vasquez was not far behind him. She passed Hudson on her crutches wordlessly and then and moved swiftly out the door towards the medical bay, clearly not wanting to walk there with Hudson and Hicks.

Hudson shook his head bitterly and when she had left, he turned to Hicks and Ripley and asked, “What’s her deal?” He felt resentful about the fact that things had turned so sour between them and he couldn’t think of what he had done to deserve it.

On top of everything, there was another round of burn treatment to look forward to.

As Hicks and Hudson unenthusiastically got up from the table to head to the discomfort that awaited them, Hicks hung back for a moment with Ripley. His hand reassuringly on her shoulder, the two shared some quiet words about the Newt’s hearing and the statement Ripley would be preparing.

Then Ripley leaned in and gave Hicks a lengthy kiss. Her hand on her chest, she looked up at him warmly. “Good luck,” she said.

Hicks gazed at her contentedly, “you too.” Then he followed Hudson out the door.

Once outside, Hudson turned to Hicks with a smirk. “Who’s the sucker now?” he mocked.

Hicks smiled. “Still you.” 

. . .

Today’s round of treatment was not nearly as bad as he had anticipated. While there was still a good amount of painful scraping and peeling, it didn’t feel as raw and tedious as the last one did.

His arm was even on the receiving end of some flattering compliments from the surgeon, being deemed ‘an adequate canvas for skin regeneration’ and ‘almost completely free of necrotic tissue’. Even better was when she told him that this would be his final visit.

As the surgeon finished up with him, Hudson’s mind wandered back to Vasquez and he wondered how she was doing. He felt annoyed with himself for worrying about her, she obviously didn’t give a shit about him.

In fact, it seemed clear to him now that she had just used him for sex last night. Normally he wouldn't have complained about something like that, but instead he felt confused. What he didn't understand was why she didn't just ask him for it, rather than going through the charade of it all. He felt like a fool for getting caught up in it, for thinking that she could actually like him like that. He felt like he had been tricked into revealing to her that he was softhearted and sentimental.

Resolutely, Hudson decided that it would just be best for the two of them to avoid each other for the next couple days until they were released.

It was actually a good thing. Now he could just get on with his life and completely forget about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter but more will be coming shortly.
> 
> Thanks for reading and if you get a chance, let me know what you think!


	6. Mind Over Matter

Vasquez felt as if she was going to be sick. While she had been hopeful that her experience today in the medical bay would not be as bad as the last, it ultimately proved a lot worse. After another ruthless debriding and more bad news, she was left feeling shaken, damaged and intensely disheartened. 

With the long corridor in front of her, she hobbled on her crutches, pain ravaging her legs with every slow step. Now, with the local almost completely worn off, it was the right leg that was becoming unbearable.

Halfway down the hall, she stopped. She wanted to just lie down on the floor and give up. Someone would eventually find her, might help her get the rest of the way back to their living quarters.

But she stayed standing. She had never been one to just lie down and give up and she didn’t know how to go about starting now.

Looking at her reflection in the polished metal wall panels of the corridor, she barely recognized herself; pale and sick and weak looking. But it was still her. Underneath all of that was the same Jenette Vasquez.

She would make it past this hurdle, one step at a time.

. 

She had hoped she might be able to slip by the crew unnoticed, but when she entered their living quarters, she was dismayed to see everyone sitting at the table in the common room.

She wondered how bad she looked and whether there was any way she might be able to avoid conversing with everyone before heading to her room.

At the sound of her entering, Hudson turned his head, a residual smile on his face from a prior conversation. But when he saw her in the doorway, she watched as the smile faded from his face. He stared at her, his blue eyes growing wide with shock at the sight of her.

“Jesus.” He stood up quickly, his chair sliding back with a sound reminiscent of a record scratch. Instantly there was silence and everyone in the room was staring at her. 

Suddenly mortified, Vasquez turned away from them and began moving in the direction of her room.

“Vaz?” Hudson said, swiftly moving to her. His arm was quickly around her shoulder and he was leaning in to look at her face, his concern for her evident. “Vaz? What happened?” He prompted gently.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” said Vasquez uncomfortably, looking down.

“Look at you, you’re not fine.”

Vasquez gazed up at him and tried to think of some way to respond but pain screamed from her leg and through her mind, leaving little space for other thoughts. Her brain seemed to be shutting down in protest; she couldn’t think of a single word to say.

Hudson seemed even more concerned now. He glanced at Hicks and Ripley, then back at her. “Vasquez?”

She just stared at him, defeated.

“Okay,” he said conclusively, and he took her arm and placed it around his neck, dropping her crutches to the floor. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her room.

. 

As Hudson placed her onto the bed, Vasquez was instantly reminded of the previous night. She remembered passionately kissing him, both of them crazy with desire and exhilaration. How strangely contrasting this moment was.

Hudson looked stressed, his eyes anxious and eyebrows furrowing with their visible indent. He helped her get under the covers and he repositioned her pillow.

On her bedside table, he found a water glass and what was left of her painkillers, just two pills remaining. He filled the glass and went to her side.

“Take these,” he said to her gently and placed the pills in her hand.

Vasquez felt nauseated with pain and she worried that if she took the pills and water she might vomit in front of him. But she took them anyway and he handed her the glass of water and she drank.

“I’m going to see about getting some more for you. Hopefully something a bit stronger,” he said with a look of unhappiness.

Then he momentarily disappeared into her washroom and she could hear water running and he re-emerged holding a damp washcloth.

“Here, this might help,” he said with uncertainty. The cloth was warm and he placed it delicately on her forehead and then slid it down gently over her eyes. The warmth on her eyelids felt extremely comforting, and she was surprised at how instantly drowsy it made her feel.

He pulled the covers up around her. “Okay,” he said quietly, and she could tell by his voice that he was turning to leave.

“Hudson,” she said feebly, lifting a corner of cloth so she could see him. “Thank you.”

He looked back at her. “You get some sleep, okay?”

. 

Vasquez drifted in and out of stressful, nonsensical dreams. When she was finally coherent enough to realize she was no longer in a dream, she became instantly aware of her discomfort; her right leg aching and throbbing below the knee.

The damp cloth Hudson had given her was now cold and it had fallen on to her pillow, leaving a wet spot that grazed her cheek.

There were raised voices coming from the common room.

She thought maybe it was Bowen’s voice, and could just barely make out the words. That’s when she heard Hudson speak, his voice loud and clearly irate.

“Those doctors,” declared Hudson angrily, “They’re fucking ridiculous! Tormenting her with that brutal procedure, then sending her on her way without even giving a shit!”

Vasquez suddenly realized they were talking about her.

“She walked in here looking half-dead,” Hudson persisted. “Like a goddamn corpse, man.”

“----- said that she wasn’t complaining about pain when she left,” came Bowen’s partially inaudible response.

“She’s tough as nails, she’s not good at complaining,” countered Hudson.

Ripley’s voice sporadically joined the conversation, “Look, Bowens, it’s clear to us that ----- the doctors to just refill her prescription.”

“She needs something stronger than that, what she needs is morphine,” said Hudson defiantly. But then something in his voice changed and in his next words, he sounded utterly defeated, “Just get her something stronger. Please Bowens.”

Hearing Hudson’s broken voice pleading with Bowens, she realized that there was very little that he wouldn’t do for her. 


	7. Accepting Help

Hudson was distracted. He couldn’t stop glancing down the hall, in the direction of her room.

Vasquez had been in her room all afternoon and evening. He wondered if he should check on her, bring her the new meds that they had just received from Bowens. But he also didn’t want to wake her. It would be good for her to get as much sleep as she could.

The bitterness he had previously felt towards her vanished the second she had walked in the door that afternoon, looking like she had just stepped out of a morgue. In the entire time he had known her, he had never seen her look so sick or vulnerable. It scared him.

“It’s your go, man,” Hicks said to him, glancing up from his hand of cards.

“Pass,” said Hudson, without looking at his cards. 

Newt leaned on the table beside him. “You can put that one down, Hudson. Or that one,” she said helpfully.

“You lookin’ at my cards, Scout?” He said teasingly. He liked having Newt around, she was the coolest little kid he had ever met, so cute and funny and surprisingly well-adjusted after all she had experienced. She felt like family now.

Newt smiled. “You need help.”

Hudson laughed and exchanged an amused look with Ripley and Hicks. “Yeah, maybe I do,” he said, turning his cards to Newt. She pointed again at the card and he discarded it on the pile. 

He glanced down the hall again.

Ripley reached over the table and put her hand on his. “She’s going to be fine.”

Hudson shifted in his seat, his pace quickening slightly at the mention of Vasquez. “Yeah,” he said to Ripley and gave her an appreciative look.

They had just begun to deal out another hand, when Hudson’s head popped up at the sound of Vasquez’s door. She moved slowly on her crutches and at the sight of her, his heart raced. She still looked pale but at least she looked more  _ alive _ than earlier.

“Hey,” she greeted them tiredly as she approached.

Hudson jumped up and pulled out a chair for her and she eased down into the seat.

“You’re looking a bit better,” said Ripley. “Did you sleep?”

“Yeah, I did.” Vasquez nodded. “Who scored the deck of cards?” she asked with a weak smile.

“Bowens took pity on us and brought it over,” said Hicks.

“He brought this too,” Hudson interjected, handing her a bottle of bright orange pills. “Apparently these ones are the business.” And he slid his glass of water over to her.

Vasquez looked up at Hudson gratefully. “Thank you,” she said, an unmistakable tone of relief in her voice. She popped off the lid, taking two of the orange pills and a long sip from Hudson’s water glass.

“You hungry?” he asked her. “I can heat up a plate of dinner for you.”

“Nah, thanks.” Vasquez shook her head, her teeth clenched, evidently repelled by the thought of food, “I really don’t think I could eat.”

“They actually made a mean soup tonight. How ‘bout it?” Hicks pressed her.

Vasquez scrunched her nose and shook her head. She seemed uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on her now.

“Man, I’m looking forward to getting back to the States, getting some real food,” said Hicks.

“You heading back to Alabama?” Hudson asked him, partially in an attempt to keep the conversation going and deflect some of the unwanted attention from Vasquez.

Hicks hesitated for a moment. “I’ll stop in. Ultimately though, I think I’m looking for a fresh start.” He gazed up and Ripley.

“Provided all goes well with the hearing tomorrow, Newt and I are going to head to Colorado,” said Ripley wistfully, “I likely still have some ties there, so I think it’s a good place to start… I asked Hicks if he wanted to come with us.”

Hicks nodded and grinned.

“Wow, that’s big.” Hudson stated in approval, and he felt a genuine surge of happiness for his two friends. “That’s really great, I’m happy for you guys. All three of you.”

Hicks and Ripley both seemed to shrug off their news as if to say that it was no big deal, but Hudson knew that it was.

“How about you, man?” Hicks asked him. “Going back to Fort Worth? Open up the bar like you always talked about?”

“That was always the plan,” said Hudson honestly. It had been a dream of his to do so, but now the prospect suddenly seemed daunting. 

“Vasquez, what are you going to do?” asked Ripley.

Hudson looked over at Vasquez with curiosity. It was something he hadn’t yet asked her.

“Getting back to it,” she said simply. “Gonna start training again soon, be ready for the next deployment.”

“You don’t want to take a break at all?” Hudson asked after a pause.

“What for?”

Hudson felt like he was inhibited from stating the obvious: the fact that her health and her mobility seemed to be getting worse. Instead he said, “So, you would just stay here and wait for deployment, not even go back to Earth?” He tried to suppress some of the apprehension in his voice.

“There’s not really anything there for me anymore, so why bother going back?”

A silence passed between the group before Ripley spoke, “Well, I should be getting this one to bed. It’s late and we have a big day tomorrow.” She looked down at Newt fondly and the girl protested quietly that she wasn’t tired. Hudson knew that Newt liked just hanging out with everyone, being one of the team.

“Don’t worry, Scout, we’re all going to bed soon,” Hudson told her so that she wouldn’t feel like she was missing out. Then he gave her a double fist bump. “Tomorrow, after you guys rock the hearing, I’m going to teach you Blackjack, okay? No more of this Crazy Eights bullshit.”

Newt smiled. “Okay. Night Hudson, night Vaz,” Newt said to them sweetly and they said their goodnights and Newt, Ripley and Hicks disappeared down the hall, leaving Hudson and Vasquez alone together once again.

Vasquez was looking tired, but Hudson was happy to see that the look of pain seemed to be disappearing from her face. Her eyes appeared heavy now, like she was about to doze off. Hudson gave her an amused half-smile. “Those drugs kicking in?”

She gazed back at him, trying to blink the drowsiness from her eyes. “Sorry, I just zoned out. Yeah, they’re kicking in. They’re pretty good,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Good. I’m glad,” Hudson said, and he took a breath before continuing with what he wanted to say to her. “Look, I’m sorry about this morning. And last night.”

“Don’t be.” Vasquez said quietly. “I was a jerk to you. I think I might have freaked out a bit last night... Sometimes it feels difficult to let people in… show a different side of myself.”

Hudson nodded in understanding. “I get it.”

She continued, “Last night… was nice.” She paused and then changed the subject. “Anyway, tell me more about this plan to open the bar.”

“Ok,” he said, pleasantly surprised by her response. It felt as though she was making an effort with him, trying to regain his friendship. He smiled at the thought and then at how stoned she suddenly looked, slouching in her seat so her heavy head could rest against the back of the chair. “Let’s move to the couch first,” he said. “ Looks like that chair ain't cuttin' it .”

He helped Vasquez get up and get her crutches so they could move over to the stark and oversized L-shaped couch in the corner of the common room. They headed to the inner corner of the L, the most logical place for two people to sit and talk, and he helped ease her down.

She still looked pale and he worried she was cold, so he took off the hoodie he was wearing and gave it to her. She put it on without objecting, then she settled into the couch happily.

The couch was not comfortable. It was probably one of the reasons that the crew spent most of their time sitting together at the table. Now, however, Vasquez nestled back into the stiff cushions serenely.

“So much better,” she uttered in contentment.

“Wow, those drugs must be working.”

“So… your bar,” she pressed.

Hudson proceeded to tell her about his plan to purchase an investment bar, get it set up and hire the staff to run it. If the business model worked, he would invest in others until he had enough profit to live off of. It felt strange discussing it aloud with her—it had once been so clear in his mind that it was what he wanted, but he was feeling more and more detached from it now that it was almost within reach.

“You could come with me,” said Hudson brazenly. “I could hire you on as a server.”

Vasquez scoffed indignantly, “Do you even know me at all, man?”

Hudson smiled. “I’m kidding. Obviously you would be the bouncer,” he said, happy to see that he had made her laugh. 

“Then what?” asked Vasquez. “The bars are up and running and you’re rolling in it, what do you do then?”

Hudson looked back at her in surprise and realized he had never really thought that far ahead. “I dunno… I guess by that time I’d have a hot wife, a couple kids. I could be a stay-at-home dad.” He laughed but part of him knew he would enjoy that and would probably be good at it.

“You wouldn’t miss being in the Corps?” asked Vasquez curiously.

“No, I don’t think so.” Hudson said thoughtfully. “For me it was always temporary, a means to an end. It was the crew that really kept me in it, and that’s what I would miss—that feeling of being a part of a team, a family.”

Vasquez nodded. She looked sad and he knew that he did too.

“I miss them,” said Vasquez distantly and there was grief in her voice. “Drake.”

Hudson moved closer to her. Trusting his instinct, he put his arm around her. Instead of pulling away, she rested her head on his shoulder. It felt reassuring to sit with her like this, so comfortable, yet so wrought with sadness. Hudson also grieved for his friends. 

“You two knew each other for a long time. You guys were close,” Hudson stated.

“We understood one another, both of us dealing with similar shit growing up,” she admitted. “He talked about moving in together one day, he wanted us to spend the rest of our lives together… I always felt guilty that I never felt the same way he did.”

Hudson listened, surprised by the amount Vasquez was willing to share with him. He didn’t quite know how to respond so he just said, “Drake, man, he was one of a kind. I’ll truly miss that jackass.” He shook his head sadly thinking of the others. “Frost, Apone… Dietrich…” He trailed off, not even able to list all their lost friends, “Fuck, it hurts so much.”

She nodded against his shoulder.

“You and Dietrich, were you…” she began curiously but stopped herself, perhaps feeling she had crossed a line.

“Yeah, we were,” Hudson answered in the spirit of openness that seemed to be occurring between them. “But we were just sleeping together. I mean, Dietrich was an awesome person, I loved just spending time with her, but it was never too serious. Not like, you know, what I had with Louise.”

The team had always known about Hudson’s girlfriend Louise, but it wasn’t until recently that he had shared with Vasquez some of the details of her untimely death, which had occurred just after one of his deployments several years ago. He had been asleep in cryo when it happened.

Vasquez slid her hand behind his back in an unexpected show of compassion towards him. He returned the gesture by putting his other arm around her so that she was wrapped in a fully-fledged hug and they held each other like that in silence.

At some point he realized that she was falling asleep. He looked down at her tired face. “You look wrecked. Come on, you should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” she said tiredly, stirring a bit against him, her eyes still closed. “Think you might want to… sleep in the same bed tonight?”


	8. Alternative Medicine

The moment Vasquez had successfully removed her pants and hoodie and got under the covers, her eyes felt instantly heavy. They closed involuntarily, her reality blurring, and she realized that she had just fallen asleep for a few seconds before even fully lying down.

The pills Hudson had gotten for her were clearly doing what they were intended to; her pain was almost completely gone but she had also never been so tired in her entire life.

Beside her, Hudson undressed to his boxers and t-shirt, then got under the covers with her. He laid down and moved in towards her, an arm under her neck so that he could get as close to her as possible. His other arm was around her body and resting under her breasts, but his intentions felt entirely wholesome as he spooned her, his body radiating warmth and compassion.

She felt the deep vibration of his voice against her back and she realized he had said something—asked her a question that she couldn’t quite comprehend. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe not, but as she drifted to sleep, all she knew was that this was the most comfortable she had ever been. 

. 

Vasquez opened her eyes slowly in confusion. Something had woken her up.

She felt like she had slept for hours already. She could no longer feel the clouding effect of the painkillers and a dull ache had begun to return below the knee.

Struggling to understand what was happening, Vasquez felt a shaking sensation and heard sounds of distress. But it wasn’t coming from her.

She turned to see Hudson tossing in the bed beside her, his body shuddering, his breathing erratic, mumbled grunts of fear and pain escaping him. She recognized that he was having a nightmare, but the intensity of it startled her. She put her hand on his chest and shook him gently. His shirt was damp with sweat.

“Hudson,” she said softly. She could feel his body trembling under her hand. “Hudson!” she said again, louder, this time.

There was a sudden intake of breath and Hudson woke with a start, his body jolting in shock. He breathed heavily. Even in the dim light, Vasquez could see his eyelashes blinking, trying to figure out where he was.

“It’s okay, it was just a dream,” Vasquez said, her voice soft. She put her hand on his leg to calm him, but at her touch, he abruptly sat up and backed away from her in the bed, withdrawing in panic. He swore and his breathing was ragged.

Vasquez recoiled, watching him in shock. “Hudson, it’s me!”

It took Hudson a moment to notice her. Finally, his eyes seemed to focus and he looked anxious and disoriented. “Vaz,” he breathed.

She went closer to him and began rubbing his back comfortingly as he caught his breath. He shook his head and held his leg where it was bandaged above the knee.

Suddenly Vasquez felt bad. “Sorry, I forgot about your stitches.” she said in concern, wondering if she had hurt him.

“No, it ain’t that,” he said hoarsely. “It’s a trigger.” he looked at her self-consciously.

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.

“When that thing pulled me down into the floor… it grabbed my leg like a vice and dragged me through the vents and wouldn’t let go.” His eyes were closed, one side of his face in his hand. He shuddered involuntarily. “I can still feel it’s claws, still feel like I’m… being dragged down.”

Vasquez nodded in understanding. She was no shrink, but she knew he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. It was an occupational hazard for them, every marine knew the signs.

Hudson seemed to misinterpret her silence, “I should go,” he said, “You need your sleep and you don’t need me waking you up with this bullshit.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh and made a movement to get up, but Vasquez grabbed his shoulder.

“Stop it. Lie down,” she said to him firmly and being the well-trained marine that he was, he did as he was instructed.

Vasquez had always thought Hudson was handsome. When she first met him as a recruit, she pegged him as cocky, irritating, and conventionally attractive. Oddly enough, she suspected it was the later quality that made her unconsciously brush him off as ‘not her type’ for all the years that she knew him.

And while she still thought he was attractive; in every other way he wasn’t the same person she met back then. That version of him had just been a story she had invented, one that had been wrong from the start. She now knew Hudson to be so much more than her first interpretation of him.

Hudson watched her intently as she got back under the covers with him. She pulled off his sweat-soaked t-shirt so he could be more comfortable, then she nestled herself into him. Her head beneath his chin, she wrapped her arm around him, gently rubbing his back.

As they held each other, Vasquez couldn’t help but worry about him. It was a strange feeling, something she hadn’t felt in a while. She could feel her heart go out to him, she wanted him to be okay.

“You’re here now, you made it out and you’re alive,” she said. She hugged him, her hand still rubbing his back and shoulders compassionately. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.”

He let out a deep sigh and she could feel his breathing become steadier.

But while Hudson was returning to a state of calm, Vasquez’s heart was unexpectedly racing. Her mind was suddenly busy, her thoughts overwhelming. Dazed, she admitted to herself what her subconscious already knew: she had feelings for Hudson. She truly cared about him.

She brushed the side of her face against his neck and the natural scent of his skin was intoxicating; all pheromones and testosterone. His hand was now underneath her shirt, his fingertips running softly over her back. 

Her heart swelled and she pressed her body closer to his, feeling like no matter what she did, she would never be able to get close enough to him. In an attempt to remedy that, she began removing her shirt and he helped her pull it the rest of the way off. She pressed her bare chest against his, and the feeling of their skin coming together sent an explosion of biological chemicals to her brain, a natural hit of morphine.

His arms held her around her shoulders tightly in a bear hug. He breathed against her skin and then his soft, full lips were touching hers. A fervent kiss followed and then he was kissing her neck and under her jaw and the feeling sent welcomed shivers all over her body.

Vasquez wasn’t sure exactly which one of them initiated it, but suddenly she was on top of him, kissing him passionately, and moments later, he was inside her.

It was different than the night before. It was almost as if the sex was an afterthought this time, just a means of getting closer to one another. They didn’t move quickly in rhythm, looking to finish as soon as possible. Instead, it was slow, unstructured, as if they were both discovering each other for the first time.

He gazed up at her and it felt as though their souls were connected. Taking her face in his hand, it looked like he wanted to say something to her but couldn’t quite find the words.

In fact, they had barely spoken this entire time. It was possible, she decided, that this was the best way for them to communicate, as neither of them were particularly good at expressing themselves through words. In this moment, they understood one another. 

In his tongue-tied state, Hudson settled on just stroking her cheek with his thumb, looking at her in wonder. And with no words to give back, she responded by leaning into his hand and kissing his palm. Then she took his other hand and kissed the corresponding spot on his cast for equilibrium, and he reacted with an adorable one-sided smile.

Her leg was starting to hurt again now, so she shifted her weight, trying to take some of the pressure off her legs. She had left her painkillers out in the common room and was now regretting it.

Hudson looked at her in concern and he asked, “Is it hurting again?”

“It’s fine,” she said, but he seemed to see right through her. One hand on the small of her back and his cast around her shoulders, he gently moved her onto her back. Now he was kneeling over her and gazed at her face intently.

“Anyone ever told you that you’re a bad liar? I can see it in your eyes,” he told her plainly. “Stay there,” and he began getting up from the bed and putting on his boxers.

“Where you going?” Vasquez said, suddenly a bit disappointed.

“Just gonna get your meds.”

“It’s fine Hudson, I don’t need them,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure why she was saying that. It didn’t feel fine. It was just in her nature to try to avoid appearing weak, preventing others from taking care of her.

“I’m just gonna go get them so that they’re here, you don’t need to take ‘em if you don’t want…” He said simply and he quickly left the room. She knew that he was calling her bluff.

When he returned, he also had a glass of water in his hand and he gave her the water and a pill from the bottle. She took it, just like he knew she would.

They settled back down into the bed, her naked upper body draped across his chest. He stroked her bare back tenderly and she listened to his heartbeat. She was thankful for it; grateful that he was alive.

A long silence passed, and then Hudson spoke. “Come with me,” he said, and there was longing in his voice. “When we get outta here. We don’t have to go back to the States, we could go anywhere you want.”

“Hudson,” she said, and she heard the regretful tone in her own voice.

“Why not?” Hudson asked her woefully and she didn’t have a good answer. “I ain’t asking you to marry me, or move in together,” he continued. “All I’m saying is, let’s see where this goes, let’s continue this until we know what we both want. This—whatever’s goin’ on between us—it ain’t nothing.” He held her tightly, as if he was afraid she would suddenly disappear.

Vasquez felt a hard surge of disappointment as she was beginning to consider the reality of the situation. Realistically, they had one more day together before they would be released and this would all be over. This thing between them wasn’t supposed to happen. Now everything was complicated, and they would need to have a painful, messy goodbye. She couldn’t go back and she couldn’t ask him to stay. And she couldn’t tell him the reason why.

“I know what I want,” she said. “And so do you. The things we want are completely different. It would never work.” When a silence followed, she looked up at him. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the time we have together. Let’s not spoil this.”

Hudson looked troubled. He was staring up at the ceiling for a while before he slowly nodded in agreement. Then he exhaled sadly and kissed her on the cheek, letting his lips linger there, as if it was the last time they would ever touch that spot.


	9. In Deep Water

The lighting in the room had begun to turn on, a warm orange glow gradually brightening into a cool white light to simulate a rising sun. Hudson’s eyes felt tired and stung as they adjusted to the light.

His mind had been occupied with dismal thoughts for the remainder of the night and he hadn’t been able to fall back asleep. As Vasquez dozed peacefully against him, he couldn’t help but think about their impending goodbye. If their expected release went to schedule, they would have one more day together, and that was it.

“Anymore nightmares?” came Vasquez’s voice. She was looking up at him, her brown eyes still sleepy, and it took him a moment to realize that she was genuinely asking, not making fun of him. 

“Just one,” he said, although it was his wakeful thoughts that he was referring to.

Vasquez lightly rubbed her cheek against his skin, planting a light kiss on his side, but in the context of his unhappiness, the act felt about as good as a gunshot to the chest.

She must have noticed his despondency, because she looked up at him and asked, “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said, feigning indifference. “Think I might get up, see if I can catch Ripley and Newt before they leave for the hearing. Can I use your shower?”

. 

Hudson breathed in steam and let the warm water run over his face. He intentionally slowed his breathing, trying consciously to rid himself of his unhappy thoughts.

It seemed to help because when Vasquez entered and tentatively asked, “Mind if I join you?” from the other side of the glass door, he couldn’t help but put his resentment aside and feel nothing but affection for her.

She stripped off her clothes and he held the shower door open for her and she walked in using one of her crutches. She looked him over and smiled and he returned her smile, still in awe of her beautiful body.

Vasquez stepped closer to him, moving into the stream of water, sighing happily as she pressed up against his body. But then she suddenly inhaled, wincing and looking down as the water soaked through the bandages on her legs.

“Too hot?” Hudson asked. She shook her head but there was pain on her face again. Hudson wished she would just talk to him, tell him what she was feeling. The colour seemed to be draining from her face now and she looked a bit unsteady.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, but she just scoffed and didn’t answer him. Instead, she reached for the shampoo bottle, resting her weight on her crutch, as if trying to prove that she was fine.

“You don’t have to be so tough all the time,” he said to her daringly. “It’s alright to ask for help, you know.”

“I don’t need help.” She frowned at him.

“Well, that won’t stop me from tryin’,” he said easily, taking the shampoo bottle from her. He moved her hands on to the back of his neck and took her crutch and set it against the wall. The majority of her weight on his shoulders now, she had little choice but to hold on to him for support and she didn’t look too thrilled about it.

But then he nuzzled the side of her face animatedly until she let him in to kiss the crook of her neck. She let out a soft laugh and the sound warmed his heart. 

As she held onto him, he washed her hair, carefully tipping her head back to keep the shampoo out of her eyes, rinsing it out until the suds were gone. When his hand lingered to caress her long neck, her brown eyes looked back at him, studying his face. Then she rested her head against his chest and hugged him. He hugged her back and the warm water pooled between them.

. 

Hudson helped Vasquez out of the shower and she hoisted herself up into a seated position atop the bathroom counter. Hudson wrapped a towel around her tightly, as if she were a child. She laughed, clearly knowing that he did it to annoy her and she pulled the towel off and began drying herself.

Hudson wrapped his towel around his waist, then he grabbed his clothes and was about to start dressing when Vasquez looked at him quizzically and said, “You’re not going to take those off?” and she was eyeing his wet bandages.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he said evenly. 

She shook her head. “ _Eres un burro_ , come here,” she replied, securing her towel around her chest and she began unwrapping the soggy bandages from around his stomach, dropping them into the sink beside her. She seemed unfazed by the dark bruises and jagged lines of stitches on his stomach that were revealed underneath, and she didn’t flinch when she uncovered the raw, scarred skin of his acid-burned arm. But when she got to the dressing above his knee, she hesitated and looked up at him. He knew she wasn’t sure how to proceed after his reaction last night.

“It’s fine,” Hudson said, giving her permission to go ahead, but he felt a bit uncertain about it.

From where she was perched on the countertop, Vasquez leaned over and gently held his leg. Automatically, Hudson felt his stomach drop in discomfort at her touch, the distressing memories now associated with his injury resurfacing as he could feel the alien’s grip, see his surroundings darkening, feel the sensation of claustrophobia. But he concentrated on Vasquez, her soft skin and long black eyelashes, the barely-visible teardrop tattoo underneath her left eye. Placing his hand on her arm, he fought through the unpleasant feelings, reminding himself that he was in the present with her, he was alive and safe. He watched as Vasquez placed a new dressing over the wound and wrapped his thigh with gauze and then her hands moved to his arm and his anxiety dissipated.

There was something about her subtle, yet fierce persona that had always captivated him. Even though they had known each other for years, he was still learning a lot about her. Until very recently, he would have found it hard to picture Vasquez with a nurturing side, but watching her now as she gently re-dressed his injuries, it seemed to fit.

When she had finished applying the last bandage, Hudson thanked her, and then gently put a hand on her knee and looked down at her legs. “Okay, your turn.”

“I’ll do it myself,” she replied quickly, and he could sense that the offer had made her slightly agitated. Vasquez had a trigger too, and this was it.

Hudson kept his hand on her knee and gave her a reassuring look. “We can do it together,” he said.

But her brows furrowed and after a pause she said, “Come on, man,” and Hudson knew that he couldn’t press the subject any further. In her deep brown eyes, he had seen a flash of fear. She was looking down at the floor now, avoiding his gaze.

“Okay,” he said easily. Hudson took his hand off her knee and rubbed her shoulder caringly, wishing for a way to help her. He wanted to kiss her at that moment. Even just on the forehead, but he worried that if he did, she might pull away from him.

“I’ll get breakfast ready,” he said slowly, tilting his head towards the door. He squeezed her hand quickly, then picked up his clothes and left. 

. 

Outside of Vasquez’s room, there was no sign of Ripley, Newt or Hicks and he figured that they had already begun making their way to the hearing, likely to get in some prep time with their legal representative prior to the court proceeding. He couldn’t help but feel worried for the result.

Back in his own room, Hudson put on clean clothes and then brushed his teeth, trying to ignore the rough facial hair and the under-eye shadows reflected back at him in the bathroom mirror. Then he went back out to the common area to begin making breakfast.

Unlike lunch and dinner, in which meals arrived via a catering staff, breakfast was stocked in the fridge; a congealed vat of pureed oats, ready to be rehydrated and reheated—to start the day off right. By contrast, the coffee maker brewed automatically, and it produced remarkably good coffee for something provided to captives of the quarantine unit. As Hudson reheated two bowls of breakfast-sludge, he poured himself a cup of black coffee and took a sip, so aromatic and enticing that it almost made up for the oats and the general feeling of melancholy that hung over him.

A moment later, Vasquez entered the common room on her crutches. She moved slowly, her complexion pallid and a look of discomfort on her face again. He pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit down at the table.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He brought over a bowl of porridge and a glass of orange juice and set it in front of her. “Thanks Hudson,” she said tentatively, “but I don’t know if I can eat right now.”

Hudson sat down in the chair beside her. “When was the last time you ate?” he prompted lightly. “You _need_ to eat something.”

Vasquez looked down at the bowl, her face pained, but she remained silent.

Dismayed, Hudson tilted his head down so he could look into Vasquez’s eyes. “Please Vaz. Just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

She gave a rueful laugh and looked up. “I feel like shit, that’s what’s going on,” she stated.

“The painkillers ain’t working?”

“They are… but I haven’t taken one since last night. They just make me so tired.” Vasquez looked regretful and her next words were quiet and hesitant. “I didn’t want to be tired today… it could be our last day.” 

Hudson couldn’t help but smile at her admission and he felt slightly disarmed by how sweet it was that she wanted to make the most of their time together.

“Okay, now you’re being the _burro_ ,” he laughed softly, his hand on hers. “So what if you’re tired? There’s nothing we need to do, nowhere we need to be. We’ll just take it easy today, okay?”

Vasquez looked back at him and her lips came together in a bit of a frown but she nodded. Then, from her pocket she pulled out the bottle of orange pills.

. 

They conversed easily as they ate, retelling some good stories from prior missions with the team. Hudson cleared the dishes as he recited some of Apone’s best quips from memory.

“Get it done, Private! I’m not asking you to eat a bushel of apples and shit a fruit salad,” he delivered with his best Al Apone impression.

Vasquez laughed heartily and responded with, “You lot look sloppier than a squid hitting a ceiling fan.”

Hudson chuckled. “You think Sarge spent sleepless nights thinkin’ those up, or does every Top just inherit a list of insults to sling?” He liked seeing Vasquez laugh. They had always gotten along well and shared a similar sense of humour, even though part of their humour had often involved insulting each other.

As if on a precise ten-minute timer, Hudson watched as the effects of the painkillers began to hit Vasquez, her lingering laughs turning into sighs of fatigue, her head and eyelids growing heavy.

“Time to move to the couch?” he asked, recognizing the cues, and she nodded tiredly with an apologetic sigh. “Hey, don’t worry, it’s fine.” Hudson said to her comfortingly.

Vasquez made her way over to the couch slowly, rearranging her crutches in her hands and then settling onto the hard cushions, exhaling audibly from the effort of it all. Hudson watched as she closed her eyes and laid her head on one of her arms and he grimaced at how uncomfortable it looked.

“Would it kill ‘em to get some throw pillows up in this place?” Hudson asked rhetorically and sat down close to where her head was. “Here.” He gently pulled her towards him so that her head was against his chest, and he held her upper body in his arms. She mumbled something, suddenly so drowsy that she could barely speak and he stroked her forehead and her soft hair and she was out immediately. 

As she slept, he wondered how he was going to say goodbye to her. How would he be able to go back to the States without her, move on with life like this never happened? He thought about what it would feel like to be back in Texas, reconnecting with old acquaintances, none of them knowing anything about what he had gone through, no one able to relate. He suddenly felt very alone.

Hudson wasn’t sure how long he sat there in his thoughts before he became aware that something in the couch was poking him in the back. He reached behind him into the hard cushions and pulled out the offending object: a book.

The pages were ragged and it looked old. It must have been left behind by the last person or group of people held up in this quarantine unit. With no books or tablets anywhere else in their living quarters and very few alternative ways of passing time, it seemed like a lucky find.

 _The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas._ He opened it up to somewhere in the middle and began reading:

_‘Misfortune is needed to plumb certain mysterious depths in the understanding of men; pressure is needed to explode the charge. My captivity concentrated all my faculties on a single point. They had previously been dispersed, now they clashed in a narrow space; and, as you know, the clash of clouds produces electricity, electricity produces lightning and lightning gives light.’_

Hudson stared at the words and wondered what the chances were that he found this book at this moment and opened it up to that page and those words.

So much of what he was feeling now _clashed in a narrow space,_ all coming together these past few days, as if leading up to the moment when they would be released from the captivity of quarantine to restart their lives. Whatever path he decided to take when he left would be the result of the experiences and pressures that drove him to this point. 

The door opened suddenly, and Hicks entered, looking anxious. He was on his own, without Ripley or Newt, and Hudson immediately became apprehensive about what Hicks would say about Newt’s guardianship hearing.

Hicks’ eye went to the couch and seemed to take in the scene: Vasquez fast asleep against Hudson’s chest as he sat holding her tenderly and reading a book. Hudson suspected that Hicks might have laughed at the absurdity of it if he hadn’t looked so anxious.

Hicks walked over to them, “Hey,” he said quietly as to not wake Vasquez. “She still not feeling well?”

Hudson shook his head regretfully. “The painkillers knock her out pretty badly.” He looked up at Hicks uneasily. “What’s happening with the hearing?”

Hicks sat on the edge of the couch. The bandage on his face had been modified so that more of his face now showed and only his left eye and a bit of his cheek were covered. “It’s still going on,” he said with agitation in his voice. “The council wouldn’t let me sit in on it. Fuck, I’m so fucking nervous.” He rubbed his forehead with his hands.

“It’ll be fine, man,” Hudson said, partially reassuring himself. “It’s Ripley, she’ll make it happen.” 

Hicks nodded, his eye looking stressed. “Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh. “I just feel like there is so much riding on this. If they take her away, I don’t know if I could handle it.”

“They won’t.” Hudson said with conviction. He watched as Hicks struggled with the stress of it, so immersed now in the idea of making a life with Ripley and Newt. Hudson couldn’t help but wonder whether Hicks would have been drawn to Ripley and the idea of settling down if any of the events on Acheron had played out differently. _Misfortune is needed to plumb certain mysterious depths..._ In the same vein, would he and Vasquez have come together otherwise? Maybe it didn’t matter _what_ brought them together.

“Anyway,” said Hicks. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He got up from the couch and looked back at Hudson and Vasquez. She had barely stirred during their conversation, still fast asleep, resting serenely against Hudson. Hicks obviously felt that he couldn’t let it go unacknowledged any longer and he shook his head at Hudson with an expression that was both incredulous and impressed.

Hudson brushed it off with a dismissive laugh. “Shut the fuck up, man.”

“I didn’t say anything,” jested Hicks, hands in the air innocently as he walked away.

But a subtle expression of understanding on Hick’s face had provided him with some reassurance. With Hudson’s feelings for Vasquez now out in the open, he was putting himself on the line and he wasn’t alone.

Each of them were in deep now, invested in a vision of what they wanted from a life that was handed back to them with no clear rules or instructions on how to continue living it. And while they should have felt like there was nothing to lose, the opposite seemed true: suddenly there was so much at stake.


	10. Good News, Bad News

She slept for over an hour as Hudson read, trying to distract himself. Every so often he would look down at her, hold her a bit closer. He ignored the pain in his ribs and his stiff muscles—it was worth every second of being close to her. He rubbed her arm and the velvet skin on the underside of her wrist, wondering how anything could be so soft.

Vasquez stirred, taking a deep breath in as she woke. Her brown eyes looked up at him, her dark eyelashes blinking tiredly. “You watchin’ me sleep, you weirdo?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it? What happened with Newt’s guardianship?” She asked, suddenly looking stressed. While Vasquez didn’t always come across as being overly friendly towards Ripley and Newt, it was clear to him that she cared deeply about them both.

“Not sure, they’re not back from the hearing yet.”

She nodded, looking a bit more at ease. “Where did that come from?” she asked about the book.

“The couch,” replied Hudson. “There’s some good shit in here.”

“In the couch?”

“In the book,” he laughed.

He set down the novel and looked at her. He had started thinking that he needed to bring up the conversation with her again. He wasn’t ready to part ways and he wouldn’t be ready tomorrow. He knew what he wanted, it was just a matter of whether she felt the same.

He was just about to speak when the door suddenly opened and Ripley appeared.

Hudson and Vasquez both sat up and Vasquez quickly reached for her crutches. Hudson jumped up from the couch. He didn’t see Newt. The expression on Ripley’s face was unreadable. For Hudson, panic started setting in.

At the sound of the door, Hicks came running down the hall. Without a word, he just took Ripley’s hands in his.

As soon as she saw Hicks, a genuine smile appeared on Ripley’s face and she nodded with happiness. A second later, Newt entered with Bowens, chatting gleefully, each of them holding a bottle of champagne.

Hicks pulled Ripley into a huge hug and kissed her. Then he scooped up Newt, who still held the bottle, and the girl laughed hysterically as Hicks spun her around.

Hudson felt overcome with relief. He and Vasquez took turns hugging Ripley happily and then he gave a high five to Newt and she laughed and showed him the bottle of champagne.

“Nice!” said Hudson. “It’s your party, Scout. You and Ripley need to do the honours.”

And as Hicks held up Newt, Ripley helped her take off the foil and untwist the wire on the bottle. Everyone cheered as the cork popped off almost instantly and foaming champagne sprayed out, mostly over Hicks.

“I probably should have set the bottle down before spinning you around like that, huh?” Hicks joked to Newt.

Bowens had already started bringing over glasses and an elated Ripley began pouring champagne, clearly not caring that they didn’t have champagne glasses or that it was barely noon. Hudson helped her pass them around, as Vasquez made up a kid-friendly drink for Newt with some juice and carbonated water from the fridge. When Bowens tried to refuse a glass of champagne, Hudson forced him into accepting it and clapped him on the back happily, thanking him for his help.

For such a small group of people, the noise in the room was suddenly raucous. Hicks held up his glass and said, “Okay everyone! Let’s have a toast.” Everyone held up their glasses. “To Newt and Ripley,” began Hicks. “You two have been through so much, and it never ceases to amaze me how incredibly strong you both are. I hope that this news marks a turning point: a fresh start, a new beginning, and nothing but peace and healing for you both, from this day forward. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” was the communal response, echoed by the clinking of glasses.

“He totally rehearsed that ahead of time,” Hudson said to Vasquez under his breath. Vasquez smiled.

. . .

When the quarantine unit staff showed up to provide lunch, Ripley talked Bowens into sitting down with them for a bite to eat, and the celebratory feeling of the moment continued over salad and sandwiches.

Hudson listened as Ripley recapped some of the events of the hearing, her face blushed with happiness. He knew she would make a wonderful guardian to Newt. He also knew that Hicks planned to be there every step of their new beginning together. As much as Hudson felt relieved and overjoyed for them, he also found himself feeling a bit envious.

Vasquez pushed her glass of champagne over to him. “Here, you finish this,” she said to him.

“Not feeling well?” he asked automatically and he wondered if she was keeping her expression unreadable on purpose.

“I’m more of a beer person,” she said impassively, and Hudson accepted the glass from her and sipped it, trying to figure out what was going on in Vasquez’s head.

Then Bowens cleared his throat significantly, and everyone turned to him.

“Thank you all for including me in this celebratory moment, I’m happy you got the outcome you were hoping for,” declared Bowens and he gave a nod to Ripley and Newt. “Before I head out, I have some final updates. We have received confirmation that everything will be set for your departure tomorrow. There is a shuttle that you folks can hop on board that leaves tomorrow at 1300 hours. In the morning, you’ll also be given an opportunity to organize your belongings on the Sulaco and take anything you wish back with you.” Bowens paused. “Additionally, we’ll ask for your assistance in sorting through the items belonging to your comrades… Anything remaining will be sent to their families.”

Hudson and Hicks exchanged a look at this, as they imagined the horror of their teammates’ families receiving the encapsulated contents of their lockers as they were now.

“Frost and ‘Ski’s stuff could use a good amount of censorship,” Hicks said to Hudson, with a morose smile.

“It’s Spunky’s I’d be most worried about,” said Hudson shaking his head. “That shit will need an edit for sure.” He wanted to laugh but at the thought of going through their deceased friends’ belongings, a sadness crept into him and crawled around unpleasantly in his chest and throat.

“Good,” said Bowens resolutely. “As of tomorrow, you’ll be honourably discharged and you will receive compensation according to your original contracts. There has also been talk of a retroactive payout for your difficulties and injuries, so the company will be keeping in touch with you all about that.”

Hudson looked up at his crewmates, each with the same look of surprise. It wasn’t something any of them had expected.

“Well, I think that’s it,” said Bowens in satisfaction. “I guess this is where we part ways.”

“Thank you for all of your help, Captain,” said Ripley and she stood up to shake Bowen’s hand over the table. Hudson and the others rose to do the same. “I bet you’ll be glad to get rid of us.”

“Ah you folks didn’t end up being so bad,” said Bowens, and then as he shook Hudson’s hand he said, “But then I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.”

Hudson gave him an appreciative punch in the shoulder and the Captain grimaced.

Bowens was just about to leave when he stopped at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention—Vasquez,” he said, looking back at her with a hand to his forehead. “My team has arranged for you to transfer tomorrow to a room in Residential Sector C. Also, the medical team said they will be in contact with you shortly—they may be able to get you in for surgery as early as tomorrow afternoon.”

Hudson felt his stomach drop at Bowen’s words. His head snapped up to look at Vasquez and she looked uneasy. Everyone else at the table was silent, having also heard the words.

At the door, Bowens looked unnerved, clearly realizing he had shared something that hadn’t been common knowledge. 

But Vasquez broke the silence. “Thank you, Sir. That’s good news,” she said sincerely, and Bowens gave her a nod and exited.

Hudson watched as Vasquez’s eyes looked at the door, the floor, the others, before finally meeting his gaze.

His voice didn’t sound like his own, and his words came out quiet and strained, “You want to tell me what the hell he’s talking about?” 


	11. Life and Limb

Vasquez felt her face grow warm as Hudson looked at her intently, his expression a mixture of disbelief and confusion. His question hung in the air.

“Hudson,” Vasquez responded quietly, hoping he would just drop the matter. She stared down at the table.

“What surgery? Can you please just tell me something straight for once?!” Hudson responded and there was exasperation in his voice.

Vasquez was aware that the other three were watching her and Hudson. The previously jubilant atmosphere from moments ago was now replaced by an awkwardness and she felt embarrassed to be at the center of such a spectacle. “Can we talk about this later?”

“No,” said Hudson emphatically.

At that, Vasquez got up quickly, grabbing her crutches and began moving away from the table.

She heard Hudson sigh in frustration as he stood up. “Sorry guys,” he said to the others.

“It’s okay, Hudson,” replied Ripley and she could hear sympathy in Ripley’s voice.

Hudson—the one who habitually annoyed the shit out of everyone—now seemed to the reasonable one, the others likely pitying him for having to deal with someone so difficult and emotionally closed-off. The thought made Vasquez feel angry at herself.

“Vaz,” Hudson followed her as she moved down the hall. She was almost at her door when he walked in front of her to stop her. On his face, she had expected to see anger directed towards her, but instead it was just a look of disheartenment. “You really move fast on those things when you’re avoiding a conversation,” he said wryly.

“Hudson, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Just tell me what’s going on. For fuck’s sake, please stop shutting me out and let’s just talk about this,” he said, a hurt look on his face. “Whatever it is, I’m gonna figure it out eventually, so you might as well just tell me now.”

She hated what she was doing to him, how much she was hurting him. No matter how much she didn’t want to tell him, it wasn’t worth making him feel like this. 

Vasquez nodded slowly and let him into her room.

Once inside, she closed the door behind them, but they remained standing. Vasquez felt uncomfortable on her crutches and she knew that Hudson could see that, but he kept quiet, waiting for her to talk.

For a split-second Vasquez contemplated lying, only sharing part of her confession, but she knew she couldn’t. She took a deep breath and prepared to tell the truth.

“Yesterday, when I went to medical, they told me that my right leg was getting worse,” she began slowly. “Fuckin’ muscle atrophy, arterial damage and nothing skin regeneration will be able to fix.”

She breathed and tried not to look at Hudson, his baby blue eyes staring at her uneasily.

“They gave me two choices: they could operate, try to salvage what they can, and I could live with limited mobility, potential complications for the rest of my life, or they could… take it.”

“Take it?” Hudson said in disbelief. “You mean  _ amputate _ ?” He stared at her wide-eyed.

Hearing Hudson say the word gave her a chill of nervousness. That word seemed so visceral, ominous and so final. It didn’t seem real and it didn’t seem like this was happening to her.

“Right,” she confirmed. “Below the knee they think, so it’s not too bad.”

“You’re not actually thinking of going ahead with it?” Hudson asked her suddenly.

“Of course I am,” Vasquez shot back in surprise. “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with the constant reminder of what happened, unable to move, unable to live!” 

Hudson was shaking his head now and he turned away from her, pacing in distress, his hand on his face.

“I could get a permanent prosthetic, live a normal life, go back to the Corps if I wanted,” she said and Hudson turned back to her.

“You’d lose your leg just to get back into the Corps?!”

Vasquez suddenly felt indignant. “I’ve  _ already _ lost my leg, alright?! And I’ve already made up my mind. This is my choice, I don’t need your approval and I don’t need you trying to talk me out of this. See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Hudson sighed and his expression softened. He moved a step closer to her. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m just… worried about you, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Vaz, I ain’t leavin’ tomorrow. I can’t just leave you knowing what you’re in for. If you’re doing this, you should have someone here with you.”

“I don’t need anyone looking after me, I can do this on my own.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to,” said Hudson stubbornly and there was ferocity in his voice. “You think you’re being strong by choosing to do this on your own… I think you’re afraid. Afraid to let anyone in, let anyone take care of you—or see you be vulnerable.”

His words hit Vasquez hard, like a sucker punch to the gut. She swayed slightly on her crutches, reeling from the blow. He had seen through to the very core of her, and of course, she knew he was right.

“So?” was the only response she could manage, her eyes on the floor.

Hudson took a deep breath and moved in close, his cast on her arm, his hand gently on her face, tilting her chin up ever so slightly so she would look at him. “Vaz, I  _ care _ about you…  _ so fucking much _ .” The sincerity she saw on his face was enough to make her heart break. “And if you don’t feel the same, I’ll just have to get over that… But I ain’t leavin’. I need to make sure you have someone here who cares about you.”

She stared at Hudson, at his handsome features and honest blue eyes.

It was true that she was afraid of letting anyone see her in such a vulnerable state. So much so that she had been trying to push Hudson away so that he would be gone before he could see her at her worst. It suddenly occurred to her that all this time, she had only been thinking about herself; what she wanted and didn’t want to reveal about herself, how much care she did or didn’t want to accept from someone else.

But this wasn’t just about her. She thought about Hudson and the PTSD he exhibited, picturing what might happen if his condition worsened without having someone around him who understood it. He needed someone to care about him too.

“Okay,” she said to him placidly.

“Okay?” he asked, and he gave her an incredulous look, like she was trying to mislead him.” He studied her, trying to make sense of her answer.

“You should stay.” She clarified and he stared at her. “I want you to stay.” Vasquez looked back at him insecurely.

“Really?” he asked skeptically and she nodded.

Slowly, relief began to appear on Hudson’s face.

He pulled her into a hug and let out a huge sigh. “Oh man, this is so fucked up,” he said as he hugged her. “We’re going to get through all of this, alright?”

She nodded against his chest and she was surprised to suddenly feel as though a weight had been lifted off of her.

He was going to stay. They wouldn’t have to say goodbye tomorrow and she wouldn’t have to be alone here. They would help take care of each other.

They sat on the edge of the bed together, his arm around her. She looked up at him and Hudson’s eyes were so blue in that moment that she was having trouble looking away. Her heart pounded and she wanted to kiss him, but she knew she had something she needed to tell him first.

“Hudson,” she said, and her cheeks felt warm at the uneasiness of sharing something so personal. “I care about you too.”

Hudson looked genuinely stunned at first, then he tried his best to brush off how much her words clearly meant to him. “I always knew you had a thing for me,” he said, attempting to sound cocky.

Vasquez wanted to be annoyed, but instead she felt drawn to him and couldn’t help leaning in closer. When he closed the gap between them, she kissed him in adoration. 

As Hudson passionately returned her kiss, the feeling she received was more than just the satisfaction of acting upon a temptation, or a temporary distraction from pain—it was the first time in a long time that she felt content.

They were lying down on the bed now, entangled in an embrace filled with affection and desire for one another. She smiled into their kiss. she couldn’t quite believe that she was feeling like this. These feelings for  _ Hudson _ . This feeling of contentment a day before she would lose her leg and her life would change forever.

But that was life; absurd and unpredictable.

And sometimes so good that it defied all reason.

.   


Hudson and Vasquez reluctantly got up from her bed and began dressing. Although it felt like no time had passed, they had suddenly become aware of the fact that they had been in her room for over two hours. As much as neither of them wanted to leave, they had limited time left with Hicks, Ripley and Newt and they needed to make the most of it.

“Would you pass those to me?” Vasquez asked Hudson and he picked up her discarded pants off the floor and held them out to her. But when she reached for them, he pulled them away teasingly and her hand closed on air.

He chuckled and said, “Sorry man, for real, here,” and held them out to her again. Then he did the exact same thing when she reached for them again and laughed heartily at her expression of incredulity. Vasquez recognized the behaviour from childhood: a kid with a crush.

“What?!” he laughed, “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just ‘cause we’re—Ugh!”

Vasquez kicked him in the shin and easily regained possession of her pants. She smiled at her win, despite pain rippling through her right leg. It was possibly the last kick she would ever have with that leg, her numb right foot. A good final memory.

.   


“You ready?” Hudson asked her quietly as they exited Vasquez’s room and walked down the hall.

She gave him a nod and the two of them entered into the common room to rejoin the others at the table.

Ripley and Hicks were sitting on either side of Newt. A pencil in hand, Hicks was showing an attentive Newt a hand-drawn map of North America, a slant of sketched-in mountains descending from Canada, through the penciled-in American Northwest, until they reached the perfectly drawn rectangle of Colorado, the new place they would be living.

“Hey, you guys,” Ripley said to them genially as they sat down. “Everything okay?”

Vasquez shrugged as she propped up her crutches and settled into her chair. As she told them about her medical results and her upcoming surgery, Hudson held her hand beneath the table. 

Upon hearing the news, Hicks seemed especially surprised, “Vasquez, I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was that bad.” He said, sympathy in his voice.

She noticed as Hudson gave him an obvious look as if to say,  _ don’t make a big deal out of it _ .

“But you’ll be fine,” Hicks continued. “I know so many people who have really thrived with prosthetics.”

“You’re the toughest person I know,” said Ripley. “If anyone can get through this, it’s you.”

“Thanks,” Vasquez said with a grateful smile, feeling genuine appreciation for them both. “And, uh, Hudson’s going to stay here with me,” she added feeling her face flush.

Hicks smiled broadly and Ripley nodded happily for them, and their expressions indicated that they weren’t surprised at that part of the news. 

With the update delivered, Hudson cheerfully placed his arm around Vasquez’s back and gave her a doting smile. She could tell he was happy to be able to show his affection for her in front of their friends. And while she knew he wasn’t expecting her to return the gesture in front of everyone, she leaned into him and smiled back. “Yeah, I think everything will be okay.”

.   


As the five of them sat around the table and enjoyed their final night together, every so often she and Hudson would catch each other’s eye. She knew that they were both longing to be alone together, but with their friends departing the next day, they needed to spend this time with everyone.

She watched Hudson as he chatted with Newt, teaching her card games. As Newt laughed enthusiastically at Hudson’s gestures, Vasquez felt a flutter in her stomach. She knew that the following day’s goodbye with Newt would be tough for him, and she worried about how crushed he would be as they all parted ways.

“Once you’re feeling up for it, you guys will have to come to Colorado to visit,” Hicks said to them, and Vasquez could tell he was getting saddened by the thought of their impending goodbyes as well.

“Yeah, that would be good, man,” said Hudson, a hint of regret in his voice. “We don’t really have an  _ after _ plan at the moment, we’re just going to take it one day at a time,” he said and gave an affectionate nod in Vasquez’s direction.

Watching Hudson now, she could detect trepidation in his demeanor. It was so clear to her that what he wanted most was a sense of belonging, the feeling of family. But with her, there were no guarantees. She had never provided any indication to him that she wanted something long-term, and she sensed he was feeling that uncertainty now. But still he chose to stay. Tomorrow afternoon, when surgeons would operate to remove half of her leg, he would be there when she woke up. He would be there to support her and help her though the difficulty that followed.

Life didn’t follow a set of rules that had to be adhered to. It was dynamic, and ever-changing. If Hudson was able to stray from his intended plan and walk into the unknown with her, then maybe she could someday do the same for him.

“Colorado would be a good place for a bar, right?” she said to Hudson and he stared back at her.

“Hell yeah it would,” said Hicks, clearly in favor of the idea.

Hudson smiled genuinely and leaned over to her. “Now, who would want to open a bar out there?” he asked her furtively.

A sudden flicker of a possible life appeared before her eyes as she pictured warm light shining from a lively pub at dusk, snow-capped mountains overshadowing an idyllic downtown of red brick buildings, Hudson by her side.

“How about two ex-Marines?” Vasquez replied, and in her heart, she meant it.

“Maybe,” he said with a grin.

He took her face gently in his hand, and as he kissed her, she knew that life held no certainties, but this moment was real. While neither of them could guarantee what their lives had in store, the important thing was trusting what felt right and moving towards it without fear.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, finally done! I hope you all enjoyed!! 
> 
> I fully intend to go back and write the first story that leads up to this one. And potentially even one that takes place after this, if anyone would be interested in reading that??
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> <3


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